


Rust

by littlehands



Category: Lost
Genre: Drama, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-23
Updated: 2010-05-23
Packaged: 2017-10-09 16:28:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlehands/pseuds/littlehands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And we just lay awake in lust and rust in the rain / And pour over everything we say we trust"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rust

**Author's Note:**

> **Rust** / Lost Fic / PG-ish / Jack/Kate / set after _Do No Harm  
> _

_And we just lay awake in lust and rust in the rain  
And pour over everything we say we trust _

It was raining again, like it had been for the past three nights. She could watch the storm start to roll in on the beach - dark heavy low clouds. She'd make her way up the path, worn down into a smooth dirt cut though the grasses, to the caves.

The rain starts as she reaches the fire pit outside the main caves. Aaron, the baby, is crying softly; she can hear Claire murmur under her breath. Another crack of rolling thunder and the rain continues. She goes to the cave to the side, where Jack is, and her few things, too. The connecting of those two things was arbitrary at first: she just needed some space; things are different now.

Jack is so caught up in his anger, his frustrations; she doesn't even think he'll notice if she spreads her blanket inside the cave's mouth. She wishes that he'd talk or at least allow someone to help, even Shannon's tried. He just assures everyone, in that non-assuring voice, that he just needs time.

Time - the one thing that they have enough of on the Island. Forever seems so real, as the rain pours down. She ducks inside the cave, pulling her hair from her face and he's there.

He's looking at her, crouched over her bag. She straightens, kneels, and pulls out a towel. His eyes follow her motions, not like himself, like someone - something - else. Her hair is a curtain over her eyes, but she can see him through the darkness, his eyes glint in the fading light of the fire.

"Why are you here?"

"Just getting some dry things before I go help Claire."

"No, Kate. Why are you here?"

The question echoes in her mind, sparking all the responses that she has stored up, her brain is telling her _ i lie-lie-lie_ /i , but her tongue is lead. What to say, what to do; take a chance.

"I wanted to get out of the rain."

So blatantly a cover up, she chides herself for even letting it out.

"Kate-"

His voice softens, as he moves to her kneeling in the silt. The second intonation of her name comes out with a breathy tone, almost whispered - a mantra to not break. She looks up at him; the harshness of the dark circles makes his eyes hooded and haunted, like he's seen a ghost. Like he's seen her, within her.

She stands, the lightning sparks, a flash of light, washing the two of them in white.

"We can't let this happen."

She didn't mean to say that out loud, but somehow the words found their way to the air. Then they hang like a mobile slowly turning in the sparked breeze.

"Come in out of the rain."

The huskiness of his voice, the low rumble that makes her belly jump - never the other men - his hands fist in her hair.

She stumbles - half from the uneven ground, half from his forwardness. She isn't frightened by it, the way his fingers twist and turn; more comforted from having him have some life in his eyes again. Solid rings of brown looking back at her, pupils dilated in the darkness; _just eyes_, she tells herself as he blinks, water on her lashes.

Her body presses against his, her chin just grazing his shoulder. All of this could be forgotten, brushed off - she feels his warmth, and shivers. His hand slides down her side, the wet cotton tank, down to the curve of her hip - just like she always thought it would be like.

He kisses her softly, wading into the waters, slowly - warm lips. Her arms find their way to his neck, brushing against the grain of his scalp. So unlike her other kiss on the Island, soft, deep - words fail at the experience of kissing someone who is kissing you back. She's been so tired of being forward, kissing to survive; to kiss for just the feeling, the very act is liberating.

Their bodies press in the mouth of the cave, in full view except for the pouring rain. It's dark out; the fires are just smoke and ash in the rain, but she doesn't care if anyone see them. His lips are wind burnt; his tongue is soft and sly. She can feel the press of his fingers through her damp tank, so warm-cold-hot.

Something about him starts a slow burn in her belly as her hips are pulled against his, and the angle is just right. This is them, in the dark of a cave, surrounded by dirt and green. The wall is solid behind her; she'll feel every cut in the morning, but his kisses are the only thing on her mind.

How fast things change - he's the forward one, she's coy. How fast things are forgotten - her lies and his anger. Just for a kiss, a body to lose yourself in, she knows that this can't last, but she lets herself go in his arms. Her bare foot wraps around his calf, pressing the tight muscles under the cloth. She's wilting under his touch, with the storm baring down on them; she melts into him.

His lips on her neck, leaving warmth in their wake. Her eyes pinched shut, because she can't bare the tender way he treats her - for all his wild eyes and deep voice, his hands are soft.

"I don't need to know."

Words ringing in her ears, whispered but so clear and firm. _Lies_, she yells, _don't lie to me_. Eyes open and he's looking at her, body still pressed against her with a neediness that she understands and mirrors - hips pressed against his.

"Yes you do - they always want to know."

She whispers into his ear as his fingers knead her skin down to the soreness that she'll never be rid of. His hands are searching for that knot, the elusive one that once touched will free her of the weight of the world. Skin to skin, his rough and scarred palms spreading warmth in their wake.

"I don't - Kate - _Katie_\- "

The last one comes out like a whisper: he's telling a secret, like he knows who that girl is. Maybe he can see through her to that girl inside; with that one slip of the tongue, she doesn't know to run or stay - each opposite feeling so strong.

She doesn't want to fight it, to listen to her mind telling her to warn her, that she never has two feet on the ground. His closeness to her, his breath on her cheek - her ear - she can almost taste the want on him still, but the softness of each exhale grounds her more. But right now, she feels no need to run, nothing in her belly screaming for her to move on, to forget the feelings. The weight is gone, but still her shoulders slump and she decides not to think anymore.

So she kisses him, with all the anger and the self-hate that she's got stored up inside, and she uses it for something right. It feels good, the energy she had been using to run, to hide from her past, to cover it over; he tastes like nothing, like water and salt, like the air on the island. No smoke, no ash, just skin and flesh.

The rain hasn't stopped outside the caves; the constant pounding of the thunder and her heart drowns out the butterfly in her belly that makes her run. She buries her face in his shirt, empty fist against his chest; all air and sun, and the tears start to fall like drops and leaks of her facade, melting in the face of just utter kindness. His silence is perfect, his fingers and his body speak volumes in the slow caress of her ache.

Whatever his intentions for his forward actions, they are lost at the sight of tears - real and wet - coloring her eyes. He holds her and lets her cry, all the weight has gone out of her - so he holds her up, her form slumped against him. A sniff, he looks down to see her looking back at him, red rimmed and tired. A woman looking at a man who is looking back at her - a simple moment that speaks volumes with its lack of words.


End file.
